Designer. Gamer. Storyteller.

Your Private Investor

The private investor stops and stares through the glass
Pressing fingers, smudging the illusion, crass
It burns, the ill chill of that nagging feeling
It doesn’t let you sleep, or work, or sing

That point where that pain is your constant, your thing
Your high. It’s how you’re defined what you bring, to the
Table. Of a meeting you have no business being in.

Because you’re not my business, you vibrant soul,
You beautiful stranger, you unreachable goal
And my greedy eyes gobble with hunger your face
I sit and my heart pounds like it’s in a race

And I’ve just got to tell you, I’ve got to confess.
Can I clear my chest when my heart’s in arrest?
CLEAR, clear is not here. With greedy grub fingers the glass I did smear.

I bend on my knees and ask for forgiveness
For sticking my nose where I can’t afford business.
Oh you I don’t know. Oh you who I see.
Would you beckon me in from the cold?

I stand here in silence, Hello on my lips
I take a step closer, And dammit it slips. I swallow it bitter and whole. And this hole inside me, shifts out to just black,and it laughs as it gargles my soul.

The private investor stops and stares through the glass
And stares at the prize they can’t buy
A partnership might have a try,
and corporate, owns all of the sky.

I loved you today, you beautiful soul.
And followed you, after a stroke
I’m your private investor, and you I did pester
And loved you until I was broke.